Tattoo
by AlfredFingJones
Summary: I've got a tattoo. Somehow, the rest find out... chaos ensues!


**_TATTOO_**

The day started off like any other normal day. I woke up late, rushed to eat breakfast and get dressed (I'll spare you the details), and showed up late to the meeting that day. I think it was in one of those really warm countries... Cuba? No, couldn't have been... I'm not sure.

Dudes! You should've seen Ludwig's face! He looked like he was about to explode!

So, yeah, like any other normal day.

I sat down next to my bro and Iggy, smiling at Ludwig. He just shook his head and went back to his speech. Mattie poked my side, whispering my name. So, he was being quiet today? "Alfie..."

"Yo, dude?" I whispered back, not making eye contact.

"Your tattoo- did it heal well?" He looked away, scribbling absently in his moose notebook, "Mine did, eh."

"Yeah, man. Do me a huge favor and don't mention it here."

He met my eyes, nodded once, and went back to his doodling. "Just wondering, eh?"

England shushed us, then offered me a soft smile (I think...might have been hallucinating). I gave him my best smile in return. He turned away, and the meeting continued on.

Geez, these things are BORING! I'd prefer to be at McDonald's, eating my heart out... yeah... food.

Suddenly, it was Arthur's turn. He stood, gathered his papers, went to the front of the room, gave his speech. I can't remember half of it- a freakin' butterfly flew by! At the end, however, he closed his binder, lifted his head, and caught my eyes. "Now," he said in that epic British accent, "I have only one question. America- when did you get a tattoo?"

Shit.

The entire room turned to stare at me. Mattie hid behind his binder, whispering, "Sorry, eh?" I coughed awkwardly, "Iggy, you've gone crazy, dude. I've got a tattoo? Since when? Why don't I know about it?" I laugh, scratching the back of my head. Please let my lie work...

It didn't. Somehow, I managed to find myself with my back to the wall, my hands raised in a form of defeat, smiling worriedly. The rest of the countries were standing in a scattered semi-circle, or seated at their places watching with interest. Russia was standing closest to me, next to China. The Bad Touch Trio were whispering to each other, heads huddled together. Iggy's eyes never left mine as Poland asked, "Like, you should totally let us see your tattoo, Alfred! Bet it's a cheeseburger!"

"It isn't, Poland."

"Then what is it?" He pouted, cocking his hip to the side.

"It's- ah, not telling. Good try," I reply, taking a step forward, "Now, if we're done, I'm leavin', dudes." Beginning to slide towards the door, I kept my back away from the group.

However, it was far enough away from the wall that three people could (not easily) sneak up behind me and carefully unzip my jacket without me noticing.

Unluckily for me, that was one of the days I forgot to put on a shirt.

Everyone has those days, right? Especially in the middle of summer when they have to wear a ridiculously warm jacket anyway? Nah, man- that's insane. Besides, it was National No-Shirt Day!

ANYWAY! France carefully lifts the bottom of my jacket, Prussia pullls my pants down slightly, just so they could see my entire tattoo. "Mon ami~! All you had to do was ask~! I'd be honored to~!" France cooed, running a finger over the sensitive skin.

I gave a (totally not girly!) shriek, jumping away from them. They kept my jacket, Prussia tossing it over his shoulder with a smirk. Keeping my back to the rest, I covered my tattoo with my hands, panting slightly.

"Awesome tattoo," Prussia laughed, "Never thought you'd get something as awesome as that!"

"Shut up! Don't tell! It's embarrassing!" I whined, turning to Russia, "Can I borrow your coat, bro? PLEASE?!"

"Why, comrade?" He did begin to unbutton his coat, sliding it off his shoulder and handing it to me. I quickly put it on, muttering a quiet thanks. He just nodded.

"You seriously pull that off, mi amigo! Such a nice ass, too! Do not be ashamed of it! Wear that tattoo proudly!" Spain grinned at me, then turned to Romano, "You should get one like it!"

"Shut up _bastardo_!" The door slammed after Romano. Spain followed, laughing. Two gone... lots do deal with. Canada caught my eye, waving his moose binder above his head. He then pointed to himself, then to the place where he got his tattoo. Right above his ass crack. Same place as mine. I nodded, biting my lip.

England stepped forward, "Let me see, America."

"Dude, Iggy, if you are, like, this set on seeing my tattoo, look at Canada's- his is the exact same!" Just in a different color...

Everyone spun to face Mattie. "Oh, so now I'm visible...?" I heard him mutter.

"Mon cheri, you have a tattoo like America's? I must see!"

Canada shrugged, "Alright, eh." He took off his red sweater, throwing it to the side.

I didn't see the rest. I walked over to France's seat, grabbed his hat that he left on his seat. I lifted it up to the window and did the epic Blues Brothers thing- ya know, when they break the window with a hat? Yeah, that.

Climbing out of the window, I noticed Russia moving in front of the window to block my exit. After I'd gotten out, he glanced behind him, smiling creepily. "Go, comrade- save your embarrassment for next meeting. I will cover you, da?"

"What about your coat?"

"Ship it to me, da? Go- but send me a picture of your tattoo. And I can tell the difference between you and Canada, so don't use that, da? I want a picture of yours so I can get China to get it. Deal?"

"Deal, I'm gone!" I ducked into the bushes, arming crawling towards my car.

I drove away like hell itself was on my ass.

**CHEESEBURGERINPARADISECHEESE BURGERINPARADISECHEESEBURGER INPARADISE**

A week later, after I shipped Ivan's coat back to him (along with a picture of me modeling my tattoo), I was playing a video game with Kiku, talking to him on the phone, beating his butt to the ground. Oh, yeah. Ten points to Alfred Fucking Jones, none to Kiku!

The doorbell rings. And rings. And rings again. Eventually, I sigh, "Kiku, someone's at the door. I'll be right back."

_"Hai- I will call Greece."_ He hung up. Stretching, I began to walk to the ringing door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming... see? Look- I'm opening the door. IGGY?!" Sure enough, he was standing there with his arms crossed, usual pout gracing his lips.

"America. I want to see your tattoo. Since I came all the way here, it would only be courteous to do so." He stepped forward, causing me to step back.

"H-hey, man! I didn't invite you! I don't have to do anything!" Yes, I honestly said that. To Iggy, too. Can I die? No? Okay...

His green eyes never left mine as we stepped back, up the stairs, down the hall. "It's only hospitable. Show me!"

He barked the last sentence as I ran into my bedroom door. My hand found the handle, and I yanked it open, closing it quickly behind me. "This is childish, America! Open the door and let me see!"

"_I'm_ being childish? This coming from the King of Fairies!" He shoved at the door, turning the knob, groaning when it didn't open. Yeah, right- like I'd let it open that easily. Locking the door, I grabbed a bag off my floor and began shoving things into it.

Jeans? Check.  
Sweater? Check and check.  
Undies? Check, check, and check.

While I was packing, the banging on the door became silent. Had I been paying attention, I would have ditched the bag and run; but, I wasn't.

Money? Check.  
Hands around my body? Check. Check?! "IGGY! LET GO OF ME!"

"Not until you show me your tattoo, Alfred!" His hand began pulling up my shirt, the other grabbing my hands and pulling them behind my head. I tried to step on his foot, but he was way too used to my tricks- he avoided my foot, making me stumble back. "Quit being immature!"

"Don't touch me!" I yanked myself forward (how's that possible? I mean, really?) and fell on the floor. The bastard tripped me!

He quickly sat on my legs before I could squirm away, grabbing my hands again and yanking them behind me. "Where is it, Alfred?"

"Not telling! Get off of me!" I tried knocking him off, squirming and kicking. He kept a firm hold, one of his hands pushing up my shirt.

"Found it." I could hear the smirk in his voice! "Hm..." His hand trailed back down to my pant line, tugging it down slightly. "Ah... Spain was right, finally. This is a good tattoo for you."

I whined, high-pitched, no longer struggling. What was the point? He'd seen it. Those black letters with the arrow pointing down.

**INSERT HERE**  
(arrow)

His hands continued to pull my pants down, one straying away to lightly graze the scars on my back. "It is sexy, America. May I ask you a question?"

"...You already did..." I muttered to the floor, hiding my face, "But sure, why the hell not?"

"Language!" He barked, then took a deep breath, "How drunk were you?"

I laughed, "Pretty damn drunk!"

"Alfred..."

"We're talking about tattoos and being drunk. This is a good of time as any to curse, Iggy."

"Don't call me that."

I glared at him over my shoulder, "I'll call you whatever I want to call you, thanks. Staying for dinner? I'm ordering takeout."

We stood, England brushing himself off. "Ugh- not Chinese?"

"Pizza."

He thought for a second, then smiled. "Alright. Pepperoni for me, please." We walked out of my bedroom, closing the door behind us.

The rest of the night was normal for us- we argued over which pizza to order, what movie to watch, where we were sleeping. It seemed he'd decided not to act on the tattoo.

Honestly? Next meeting, no one mentioned it. Hallelujah!


End file.
